Occupational Hazard - So, What Do You Do?

 

Great Grandfather - Redmond Rose in his Blacksmith Shop

"So, what do you do?" That is a question so often asked by one American to another.  It is the question that for many cultures is considered rude. Maybe its because it seems to try to put people into social classes. Maybe because for them work is not as closely tied to identity.

But, for Americans it is a very natural small talk opening.  It is a way to seek connection. The conversation might go something like this:

A: "So, what do you do?"

B: "I'm a teacher.  I've been a public-school teacher for 20 years."

A: "Wow! My brother is a teacher in Alabama. He teaches High School Science. What about you?"

And so on. This is all done - usually without judgement or with any intent to establish pecking order. Though, social ordering happens in this way, too, in some circles.

For Americans it is natural to ask - what did my ancestors do for an occupation?

As I looked along my family lines I, like many find farmers.  Some were small local farmers growing and raising enough for sustenance and community exchange while others were truly farming as a business venture.

In the late 18th and early 19th century a few of my ancestors stood out for doing things other than farming.  A direct paternal ancestor, Malcolm, was, in addition to farming, a militiaman and scout on the western frontier. His son, Sylvester, began as guard/bailiff, but his experience led him to the legal profession becoming a Justice of the Peace and ultimately a Probate Judge. He also was a tutor at times.

Another interesting profession during that time period was a second great-grandfather, Philip Blume, who was a saddler - first in his role during the War of 1812 and later as a profession. It is also possible that he dipped into investing into hospitality (Blume Hotel) and coal mining in his later years as his children were directly involved in the activities. Philip's mother, Elizabeth, mentions that her son, Jacob, "received the wine of life" indicating the good things were happening for him - and this is the time that the coal business was taking off for Jacob with his future brother-in-law.

One fourth great-grandfather, Timothy Bates, would have current conservative Christian fellowships spinning their heads. He came with his father, Ephriam, to Ohio because of a combination of opportunity and abolitionists beliefs developed under the influence of Jacob Green. Pioneers on the frontier and religiously zealous - Timothy preached on Sundays at a Christian Church that often met on his farm in his distillery using the whiskey barrels as benches.

Moving further into the 19th century my family followed the rivers. Monroe McCown was very entrepreneurial.  He was a lay Methodist minister, a fruit farmer, blacksmith, steamboat clerk and possibly pilot. His wife, Henrietta, owned a good bit of property in the main town and in the countryside - where she may have rented out property for others to farm. In her younger years she had been a seamstress and may have continued that activity as the opportunity arose. Their son, Sylvester, was similarly entrepreneurial.  Like his father, he apprenticed in blacksmithing, managed a fruit farm in Ohio, and he speculated on timber in Louisiana and Arkansas.

One second great-grandfather never came to America.  Zacharias Anderson, born in 1836 to a tenant farmer living in a backstuga in Naverstad, Sweden. He eventually moved to Grebbestad near the coast where he first tried cobbling - but changed his primary occupation to strandfiskare or beach fishing which consisted of cast net fishing, small boat usage, and fishing from the shore. When Zacharais' son, Oscar, came to the U.S. he would lean on those things he had learned from his father occupying himself as a boat captain, fisherman, bridge builder, and general construction contractor. I could see echoes of this fishing legacy while growing up in the panhandle of Florida where my grandmother and aunt, (Zacharias' grandchildren) would scoop crabs, gig flounder, and uncles would cast nets for mullet. Even today, I can't visit an Aquarium without getting hungry.

At the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries, two ancestors on opposite sides of the family tree set up general goods and sundry stores.

One, Robert Wylie, operated on the old routes - the rivers, specifically the Ohio. The other, William Ira Goad, operated on the new routes - the rail roads, along the L&N specifically in Repton, AL William's son-in-law, Alva Otto Huckaby, was a carpenter along the L&N and followed it south into Florida.

Fully into the 20th century both of my grandfathers were eventually employed by the federal government.  Before that, Herbert McCown, managed a small farm, worked in his cousin's coal mine, and traveled with a timber company. The government job allowed him to stay near the farm as he obtained a job with the Army Corp of Engineers with the hydroelectric dam operations on the Ohio. His wife, Nellie, with her love of books was a librarian. Ira Huckaby eventually worked for the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, first as a carpenter then as an estimator for the Public Works Department. Before that he was driving a taxi.

Dad farmed as a teen and worked in a jewelry store. But he quickly joined the Navy, He didn't stay in long.  He did, though, learn a skill and used it to get a contracting job with the USAF as an electronic technician, He used that skill for most of his career.  He later earned a college degree and retired as a computer specialist. 

As for me, my first official job was as an appliance installer for a small appliance store.  As I was going to college, I worked in the Couty School Art Department doing whatever needed to be done for the program administrator. After earning a degree, I began working for the USAF in software maintenance and weapon system analysis activities.

"What do you do?" is not the same as "Who are you?" or at least it shouldn't be. And yet, it gives a window into the skills a person possessed and the nature of life they experienced. Exploring the occupations of these ancestors works much the same for opening a window into their lives for those who inquire.

American Revolution - Artful Recollections of Burgesses of Yore

Artwork from the 80s

While I was attending college I had the good fortune of having a college in my hometown and a job that permitted me to work part time.  The advantage of this is that I had no school loans when I finished school.  The job I had was working in the Art Department for the local school board district. My boss's name was Mary Jo Burgess. 

The teachers gave me a shirt I still have, and don't recall if I ever wore. I also collected a few handmade gifts each Christmas that I worked there - as that was a requirement of the gift exchange. The brown vase, I encountered at an auction in the 2000s - and I immediately recognized it by the signature on the bottom - as it was the same signature as the silkscreened owl I had received one year as a gift from one of the teachers.

How a guy who was addicted to playing sports and otherwise focused on math and science wound up working for the Art Department is a story in itself. Nonetheless it exposed me to a way of thinking and an area of interest that I would have neglected otherwise. 

I thought of Ms. Burgess this week as I read an article about the 250th Anniversary of the disbanding of the House of Burgesses in the Virginia Colony. Seeing the article - I began to wonder.  "Didn't I see that some of my ancestors were members of the House of Burgesses?" "Were they there on the day it disbanded or at events leading up to its final meeting?"

The House of Burgesses had formed in the earliest days of Jamestown in 1619 as an early self-governing body under the Virginia Company. It transitioned to being under the control of the British Crown in 1624; but by the 1640s the Burgesses were in charge of taxation and local laws. After Bacon’s Rebellion, the Crown increasingly tried to restrain the Burgesses’ power; however, the assembly continued to expand its authority and became the dominant political institution in Virginia. Consequently, Governor John Murray fourth Earl of Dunmore dissolved the assembly in May of 1774. Even so, some members continued meeting informally and sporadically until it completely disbanded on the sixth of May two years later.

The ancestor that I was recalling that had been a member of the House of Burgesses was an eighth great-grandfather, Christopher Robinson. He had been a member of the House of Burgesses from 1685 to 1693 during its time of increasing autonomy. Christopher's son and my seventh great-grandfather, John Robinson, was also a member of the House of Burgesses in 1711 and 1714.

John's father-in-law, and also my eighth great-grandfather, Robert Beverley, was also a member and clerk of the House of Burgesses. Robert was active in commanding Governor Berkeley's forces in defense against Nathaniel Bacon and his rebellion. However, when British commissioners arrived, he sided with the Burgesses against the King's representatives. He was blamed by King James II for disruption in the Colonies.

William Robinson, was my sixth great-grandfather in that lineage - but there is no evidence that he served in the House of Burgesses - though he, too, was active in the civic community. His brother (and therefore my uncle), John Robinson, did serve in the House of Burgesses from 1728 until his death in 1766. So, the family was a participant in the tradition from close to its beginning to near its waning days.

These Robinson, I came to discover after tracking down the name and true identity of my third great-grandmother, Sarah Jane Robinson. She was originally just a name on a slip of paper that my grandfather had written down for my dad. The original note said 'Robertson' instead of 'Robinson' - but it was enough to go on to track down documents that showed her actual name and lineage.

 

Well, this little diversion peregrinated from artful recollections to name associations, then brought us through some civic-minded family. In doing so it brings me to a question. Has the art of civic responsibility faded, or is it simply aimed at different civic challenges?

Genealogy - Going South

Grandparent's Camper

One of my favorite things to do with my grandparents was camping.  They loved to camp.  They traveled all over the country both before and after my grandfather retired. For the most part, I would camp with them at Fort Pickens State (and later National) Park. However, a few times we traveled with them to Tennessee and Kentucky.  Along the way we would stay over a night or two in a State or National Park. 

One year we stayed in a campground that was on Duck River in Tennessee. I struggle to remember the name of the park, but with a little research a likely candidate is Henry Horton State Park. While I was staying at this park I went on a nature trail walk with my dad and "Pawpaw". Dad was always the adventurous explorer when it came to the outdoors. He wanted to go down from the trail to the river - but the spur off the trail was steep. He told me to wait - which I did.

Pawpaw began following my dad a bit behind him, then he turned around.  No doubt it was to remind me to stay where I was, but I interpreted it as "come on." And so, I did!  

Flatlander that I was, I was soon racing toward the river at top speed - right past Pawpaw and then right past Dad - through the poison ivy that Dad was investigating and face first onto the rock ledge as the edge of the river. The air was knocked out of me, I may have very briefly lost consciousness, and my tennis ball I was holding went floating down the river. The first thing I said was, "Dad, go get my ball!" Wisely, he refused. He and Pawpaw got me back up the bank to get checked out and cleaned up. Amazingly, I had no itchy consequences of poison ivy.

Only years later did I realize that the trail I tumbled down was part of a much older path that one part of my family had been following for more than two centuries.

The genealogical trail is certain from Duck River to the Gulf shores of Pensacola. The trail to Duck River from the Old World through Maryland is probable - but not fully proven. The remainder of this article will travel that story through a few different surnames.

The story begins with Samuel Lane, who in 1664 two years after he had been ejected as the Vicar of Long Houghton, Northumberland (England) he immigrated to the Maryland Colony paying his own fare. He inherits a place called Brawsley Hall and acquires other properties in what became Anne Arundel County, Maryland and specifically, Harwood. He was "a gentleman, chirurgeon, doctor, doctor of physics, Commissioner of Anne Arundel County, justice of peace, gentlemen of the quorum and military major." In 1682, though, he died in skirmishes associated with Lord Baltimore's Wars.

Samuel's granddaughter, Elizabeth Lane, married David Weems.  David was originally from Wemyss, Fife, Scotland, but immigrated to Mashes Seat in Anne Arundel County, MD in the early 1700s. David was the owner (or part owner) of a Privateer Schooner, Williamanta and a Sloop, Washington. During the American Revolution ships like these would protect coastal plantations from British raids, attack British ships, and disrupt British supply lines in the Chesapeake Bay.

David's grandson, John Weems, is believed to have been born in Mashes Seat but had already moved to Orange County, North Carolina near Hillsborough by the mid-1760s before the Revolution. At the age of twenty-two he purchased nearly four-hundred acres of land, suggesting he had substantial financial resources or backing. In 1790 he sold that property and invested in land on Lick Creek near Bulls Gap in what would become Greene County, TN (36°12'35.67"N,  83° 2'36.77"W). John's son, William, would move to Maury County, TN sometime between 1805 and 1811. This is where we first encounter Duck River as it runs directly through Maury County.

William had four children. One died unmarried. Two went to Chickasaw Territory in Mississippi to encounter misfortune. One was witness to a murder and the other was the wife of the victim.  The third, my ancestor - Catherine Weems Tombs, stayed in Maury County where the family continued farming. There they witnessed the Battle of Columbia and the Reconstruction Era that followed the Civil War. 

With Reconstruction came the expansion of the railway in the American south.  Migration that had followed waterways, like Duck River, were now following the tracks as they were being laid. 

Catherine's grandson was William Ira Goad, Catherine probably influenced her daughter to name after her brother who had seen such misfortune in Mississippi. William tried to farm for a while but gave it up sometime after 1880 and began working as a Railroad laborer.  He followed the railroad south to Repton, AL in the first ten years of the 20th Century. He then settled there and opened and operated a supply store. By 1920 the store was gone and he had moved to live in Childress, TX. 

His daughter, Susie May Goad Huckaby, married a railroad carpenter, A.O. Huckaby, in Wayne, TN. They followed the L&N Railroad with her father to Repton and then on to Pensacola. There they remained.

Their son, Ira, turned around to tell me to stay right where I was - but I, like those before me kept coming.

Genealogy - Native Interactions

 

   

Florida Beach with Tourist & Condos

Florida’s population has grown nearly five‑fold in my lifetime. In a state defined by newcomers, simply saying you’re a Florida native sets you apart. When I consider that my grandmother was a Florida native — born into a Florida that scarcely resembles the one we know today — that lineage places me in a very small circle indeed. I fully qualified for the "FLORIDA NATIVE" bumper sticker!

Now, in Florida we love tourists because they bring in tax revenue — which helps ensure we don’t pay a state income tax. But we’re often annoyed at the traffic they bring, and we certainly feel the loss of those miles and miles of open beaches and free parking we enjoyed before the population exploded.

I claim to be a native of Florida because my family has been here since the 1880s. Similarly, I claim to be a native American (with a lowercase "n") because a good portion of my family has been here since the founding of Jamestown and Plymouth. But, of course, there were natives here before that who were capitalizing, lamenting, and resisting our arrival.

Growth and change always create resistance and friction. The winners see the change coming and capitalize on it. The survivors adjust to it. The losers resist it. The same dynamic played out as the United States evolved from a vast open hunting reserve into a 21st‑century, multi‑cultural society of roughly 340 million people.

The Native Americans' first encounters with pesky tourists and interlopers came in the 1500s — beginning with Ponce de León in 1513, followed by Tristán de Luna y Arellano near Pensacola in 1559, and Pedro Menéndez de Avilés at St. Augustine in 1565. From that moment the encounters and friction increased.  As an American with long genealogical roots into its history, I have several ancestors that were both affected by the friction and contributors to that friction.

One of the earliest was Peter Montague. Peter arrived in Virginia in 1621, just months before the GoodFriday (1622) Powhatan Massacre, led by Opechancanough of the Powhatan Confederacy, and he survived that colony‑shaking attack as a young servant at the newly established plantations along the James River. His later life as a planter, burgess, and landowner unfolded in the long shadow of that event, which shaped the colony’s defensive posture, settlement patterns, and attitudes toward Native peoples for decades.

My earliest ancestor in the colonies with my surname, Francis McCown, was present at the 1742 Massacre of Balcony Downs, (aka Battle of Galudoghson) one of the earliest settler‑Indian confrontations on the Shenandoah–Augusta frontier. As an early settler of the Borden Tract, he experienced the tense early decades where Scotch‑Irish pioneers lived amid recurring conflict with Native groups.

Francis' son and my fourth great-grandfather, Malcolm McCown, was so affected by those events and especially the Kerr's Creek Massacre that he spent much of his energy in his early years fighting against Native Americans. In one such event he was one of the presumed perpetrators of the murder of Shawnee Chief Cornstalk.

A seventh great grandfather, James Caudy, was a frontiersman of the Cacapon Valley whose local legend centers on the Caudy’s Castle incident, where he is said to have fought off Native attackers by pushing them from a narrow ledge above the river. 

James Ward, who is thought to be one of my sixth great grandfathers, died at the Battle of Point Pleasant, where a clash between Native Americans and Virginia Militia erupted at the forks of the Kanawha and Ohio Rivers. Tragically, James' son, John had been captured by the Shawnee as a toddler and raised among them - so that day, he fought against his father, neither of them knowing this.

Other great grandfathers participated in actions against native populations as part of a State militia or US military.  A couple of these include Andrew Walker who engaged in actions against the Cherokee and Ephraim Bates who was engaged in the 1778 Brodhead-McIntosh expedition into Deleware Territory.

Our Nation handled the friction with the Native populations badly overall. The problems were fueled by ignorance, greed, and bad personal experiences on both sides of the battle lines. I suppose that can be said of any clash of cultures throughout history. 

 

Genealogy - A Crooked Crew

Crooked Little House built in 1395 

Lavenham, Suffolk, England

There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile,

He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile;

He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse,

And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

That little nursery rhyme was told to me as a child. The true origin of it is unknown, but at least one of the possible sources comes from the town of Lavenham, England.

I visited there once in the middle 1990s while in England on a work-related trip. The photos don't really capture the extent or prevalence of the leaning buildings - but there are several of them. So, how did they get that way?

It turns out they were in a hurry to build, because the town was growing very fast with a booming wool trade. Th economy took off in the region in the 14th and 15th Centuries. They used oak timbers for the structures. They filled between timbers using daub (clay, sand, straw, dung, and water). The timbers were green.  So, as everything dried over time, the entire structure bent and warped creating a comically crooked community.

I stumbled upon a memory of this event while reviewing some genealogy. 

I limit my personal genealogy work and research to the U.S. or the American Colonies after about 1700 - because I know how to navigate Court and Census Records with reasonable confidence. However, I have connected my researched ancestors to people others have researched and put on Wikitree. This has resulted in what I like to call "deep genealogy."

(It is important to note, though, the deeper in genealogy you go, the less confidence you have. Clerical errors, researchers' assumptions, and ancestral infidelity takes a toll on the accuracy.)

Nonetheless, because of this deep genealogy - I have discovered four ancestors that were living in Lavenham in the sixteenth century.  They would have seen the same leaning houses I was tilting my head.

Their names were: John Fuller and his wife, Elizabeth Cole.  John and Elizabeth came to Middlesex, Massachusetts before 1647 when their second child was born. 

John came to own over a thousand acres in the region of Newton, Massachusetts growing crops as well as supplying malt for the production of beer.

John and Elizabeth are theoretically my 8th Great Grandparents. They share that spot with 1,022 other 8th Great Grandparents. A few of whom are identified, but most of whom are a complete mystery to me. Others, like Catherine Brew (whose name also suggests some connection to Malt or Hops) appears as my 8th Great Grandparent twice. 

Knowing who these possible ancestors were, how and where they lived, and what they may have done can be fun. Experiencing a place they would have known gives the experience of the place some personal connection - even if the way I experience it is completely different than their experiences.

For more on John Fuller see:  https://johnfullerofnewton.com/

Driving all over the World

Trinidad Driver's License (1986)

I just returned from a trip to Ecuador.  I was there on a mission trip related to church work. I've been going there off and on since 2001.  It all started for me when a brother from the congregation I was attending was looking for people to accompany him to put on a youth camp there.  I had a passport. I had been on a mission trip once before, to Trinidad. I was active in church activities locally. I didn't speak Spanish and I had somehow gotten through High School and college without a foreign language. Anyway, the mission kept going and so did I - now traveling to a different part of the country.

Thinking about that reminded me of my trip to Trinidad in the 1980s. We had several go to do some follow up work on some correspondence style evangelism. It was my first exposure to a foreign country and frankly one of my first airplane rides. 

What I discovered as a young man is that not everyone thinks like me. I'm highly flexible - but when in charge, I'm rather detailed.  Well, the leader of this event decided to rent a bunch of cars so we could do the follow up. He hadn't done his homewor, so after two days of driving he discovered that the rental car company didn't care if we had valid driver's license or not.  That was between us and the law. So, we spent one morning at their equivalent of a DMV.

The leader decided to send us all through the lines to take the test since the test made no distinction between automobile drivers and commercial vehicle drivers. He figured if he kept paying for tests, he would eventually get enough drivers.  His bet paid off. I became one of the drivers.

That was my first experience driving in a place other than the Southern or Midwestern United States.

Since then, I have driven in cities all across the US including some of the larger and denser ones like, Miami, Orlando, New York, Boston, Atlanta, Baltimore, Washington D.C., Minneapolis, Dallas, Fort Worth, Houston, Albuquerque, Phoenix, Seatle, Los Angles, and San Francisco.  In Los Angles, one time, it was in a U-Haul (or Penske) pulling a trailer of High School Band equipment for their participation in the Tournament of Roses Parade.

I have also driven in other foreign countries since Trinidad. I've driven on the Autobahn in Germany. I've driven alone in Scotland - before GPS. I have driven in Ecuador and England - though not London.

In England, they must have seen Americans coming, because when my traveling companion requested an upgrade to handle the extra luggage we wound up with a fifteen-passenger van.  That is not the best choice for some of the back roads we had to travel on. This insured that I was the designated driver for everyone.

Thinking about driving I have noticed some cultural differences in driving in various places. In the US, except for large central city areas it is pedestrian beware! In Ecuador it is driver beware!  (See video starting at about 1:50). 

In the US we think in terms of Right of Way! In Scotland and England and to some extent in Ecuador they seem to think more often in terms of Give Way!  It is probably why Traffic Circles (or Roundabouts) seem to work better there. 

In Trinidad, at every traffic light where there are two lanes there would be four or five cars side by side waiting for the light.  

In the US a yellow light means to speed up so you don't get caught by the red light and a green light means (if you are first in line) proceed cautiously in case someone runs the red light.  In Ecuador there are countdowns letting you know the light is about to turn green and drivers often start moving on one or two - so don't you dare run a yellow light.

In the US we have bumper stickers that say, "BACK OFF!" or "If you can read this, you're too close!" In Ecuador, if you still have six centimeters you haven't hit anyone.

In the US passing on a two-lane road requires a mile of visibility and a prayer that the driver you pass doesn't speed up. In Ecuador, they pass on winding turns and if somebody comes from the other direction the vehicle being passed and the oncoming vehicle keep moving but slide to the outside edge and you drive between them.

Being anywhere it is important to know the culture. Driving anywhere is about knowing the driving culture. Next time you think someone is driving crazy - remember they may have just got back from driving in a whole nuther world.

Be careful out there!

 

Genealogical Treasures

1933 Seth Thomas Mantel Clock

I'm the oldest child and I married an oldest child.  My dad and my mom were oldest children. My wife was the daughter of an only boy (who had sisters) and an only child.  My dad's father was the last surviving child of two parents who "stayed home." As a result we have slowly become the curators of old family things.  Neither of us started out this way - but as time has passed the treasures filtered in. This is a story about some of those treasures and their original owners.

Back in December, I had a blog titled: Genealogy - Antebellum Ambrotypes. In that blog I talked about one of the treasures, an ambrotype, that may have been an ancestor of my wife. That one was a mystery.  Some of the others are also mysteries that are largely solved. 

Starting with one we know confidently is the 1933 Seth Thomas Mantel clock.  This clock belonged to my wife's grandparents, John and Mary Robinson.  They received or purchased it as they set up house in Nashville after they were married in August of 1933. It's an eight-day clock but now does require winding about every five or six days.

Keeping on the timekeeping theme we became the curators of several watches. Among them four pocket watches and two wristwatches which still operate. I usually wear the 1961 Elgin Sportsman that belonged to my father-in-law.  I occasionally wear the 1934 Hamilton Dixon that belonged to my grandfather, Ira Huckaby.

He had received the watch from a regular passenger, Anna Martz, while he was a taxi driver in Pensacola, FL.  She had helped him secure employment at Pensacola Naval Air Station and wanted him to have a nice watch to wear on the job. Sentimentally, he gifted to me when I started work after college. 

Of the four pocket watches two of them still keep great time and ironically, they are the oldest of the four. One is a 1911 Lady's Elgin time piece.  This one had belonged to my great-grandmother, Mary Ellen Wylie McCown. There is no special occasion that lines up with that date; however, her husband and my great-grandfather, Sylvester McCown, was spending a lot of time away from home in Louisiana working some logging operations between 1910 and 1915 (based upon 1910 Census data and Family Letters).

We don't have any correspondence that accompanied the gift, if indeed it was a gift from Sylvester to Mary Ellen, but an Appalachian style log cabin was engraved on the front surface of the watch case. Maybe this was to indicate a longing to be home with her.

The other fully functioning pocket watch is an 1879 American Watch Company (pre-cursor to Waltham) time piece.  The provenance on this one is not perfectly known but can be reasonably deduced. My dad gave the watch to me one Christmas about eight years ago. It was one of two "family heirlooms" that he was parting with.  (The other was an 1880's 38 caliber pistol that my brother received.) 

What dad knew about the watch was that his dad, Herbert, had only reported that it was his dad's (Sylvester) watch. However, this was a lady's watch! That meant the watch must have been his mother's or one of his grandmother's.

Sylvester's mother, Henrietta, is the most likely original owner of the watch. The 1879 manufacture date is closely aligned with her and her husband's (Monroe), 20th Wedding Anniversary in 1880. The watch didn't belong to his mother, because she had died in 1842 and his stepmother had living biological children. Similarly, Henrietta's mother died in the early 1840s and her stepmother also had living biological children. However, it is clear that Monroe and Henrietta took care of Henrietta's father's estate and her mother remained there until her death in 1888.  It is possible the watch belonged to her, but she would have received it at the age of 73 on no particular occasion. 

Among the other treasures are dishes, flatware (some silverplated but not Sterling), cameras (still and 8mm movie), nicknacks, coins (foreign and domestic), photos, letters, books, furniture and a jug. The last two have an interesting enough story to expand on in this blog.

Nashville Pottery Jug and our Farmhouse Chairs

We have a jug on our fireplace that was in the home of Tammy's mother.  I made a comment about how cool it was and suddenly it showed up at our house well over a decade ago. According to my mother-in-law it was her great-grandfather, Balum Robinson's, whiskey jug. That may be true, but it smells like it was used for several years as either a spittoon or as a used pipe tobacco receptacle. 

Then there are the six farmhouse chairs.  My wife's parents brought them to us when they downsized.  They couldn't get rid of them, but they didn't need or have room for them either. These had belonged to her dad's great aunt (Alma) and her husband (Jack). However, Jack was an only child and had obtained the furniture from his parents, Charles and Eugenia Gordon who had gotten them when they set up housekeeping after they married in 1901.

Here is something ironic. My father-in-law is the grandnephew of the original owner's daughter-in-law.  That makes me two in-law connections away coming into possession of these.  Except, because of Wikitree, and some genealogical sleuthing, I discovered the chairs belonged to second cousin I never knew I had. Eugenia and I share a great-grandfather (my fifth great-grandfather), Joseph Matthews, whose father, James, was a Revolutionary War soldier who participated in the Battle of Alamance.  

(You knew I was going to bring the topic back to the Revolutionary War didn't you!)

In the end, these objects remind me that family history isn’t just names and dates; it’s the quiet trail of things people loved, used, repaired, and passed down. I'll tell the stories. I'll be a steward of these treasures for a time. Perhaps these treasures will survive yet another generation or two with their stories intact. But at some point, if they survive, someone else will be the steward for a time.

AFTERWARDS:  A little more research is still required to fully support all the connections of the Matthew's family line, though the connection seems probable.